


Booze, Breeches, and Brews (Solas X Reader)

by Nemuu



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Crack, F/M, Fluff, I dunno what I was writing, slight romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 15:24:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14751440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemuu/pseuds/Nemuu
Summary: And with that said, the elf immediately sank her hands into one of the drawers and pulled out a handful of grey garments. She tilted her head and hummed in thought. “Looks to me like Mr. Stiff needs more excitement in his life!”“Yes, and what better place to start him off than hisbreeches, of all things!” the Tevinter exclaimed sarcastically, though his face showed that the idea amused him greatly.





	Booze, Breeches, and Brews (Solas X Reader)

**Author's Note:**

> I lost what I was writing this to achieve halfway through. It's been sitting around for like 4 or 5 years now lol. It was originally just going to be a story where reader goes to steal Solas' sweater and was titled "Operation Sweater Hijack", buuuuuuuut that didn't really seem to be the focus of the story so I changed it. XD
> 
> Also, because it's been 4-5 years, characterization is a little loose, but I think that's okay since it is kind of a crack fic. :P
> 
> Dragon Age belongs to Bioware.

**Slight Solas X FemElf!Reader**

**WARNING: Suggestive lines.**

The only thing that hung in the air was silence.

The dampened noises coming from the other parts of the compound -- no doubt of servants and late-night patrols cleaning and preparing for the next day -- rose and fell in tandem with the dwarf's chest, trusty crossbow held in an iron-clad grip.

He’d been on a lot of dangerous missions -- had his life threatened in ways normal folk couldn’t even begin to imagine. He’d ventured through the Deep Roads countless times and was almost killed by a poltergeist...though those were only some of the cherries on the cake he’d gained from adventuring with Hawke. Yet even so...this mission was risky enough to make him, a seasoned and hardened veteran, hesitate.

He took a shaky breath and peeked over his shoulder into the room. Light leaked into the shadowy staircase where he stood, a tiny sliver barely illuminating his face. He could feel his heart pounding against his rib cage, his heartbeat ringing in his ears and dulling his perception. Fighting to hear, he took great care not to make more sound than was necessary. Better safe than sorry, he always said; words that had proven all too wise during their travels.

 

"So, what's our plan, Inquisitor?" he asked quietly, slinging his crossbow on his back as he turned to the party of three behind him. "I've seen Chuckles leave this room before and I'm just saying, based on what I've seen, he could be coming back any second now."

You moved to pass him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry about it, Varric. Between you and me, my keeper’s special brew works wonders on the stomach. Trust me. He’s not coming back any time soon.”

Varric’s eyes narrowed for a moment, clearly deliberating whether or not it was a story he wanted to hear, before he gave a quick nod of his head. “Well, if you say so, Inquisitor,” he mumbled, an indication that he thought this story, like many of the others you’d told him, was something best kept in the confines of your mind. “But just so you know, the moment someone comes, I’m out of here.” The dwarf looked at you with a wry smile. “We’re great friends and all, but I’d rather not be seen through another man’s drawers in the middle of the night. Wouldn’t want people to think I was into that sort of thing, if you know what I mean...no offense to you, Sparkler.”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “Why yes, throw in that last line and you’ll get me to forgive you for almost anything,” the mage quipped. “Now _I’m_ more curious as to where this man keeps his wines. The last time I had a drink with him, he had the nerve to suggest Tevinter wine was subpar. Completely unfounded, if you ask me. The wine from Tevinter is absolutely delectable if you ignore the blood magic that went into making it...but I am a _tad_ curious to find out what exactly he fancies.”

“Are you suggesting we sample his stores, Dorian?”

“No, no, nothing of the sort, Inquisitor,” Dorian drawled, lips twisting into a sly grin, “but surely nobody would blame us if some of it mysteriously went missing. Heard that sort of thing has been going on a lot lately.”

You raised a questioning brow, knowing Solas would never fall for it, let alone suspect Cole of stealing his liquor. “Well, whatever floats your boat, Dorian, but don’t blame me if you get drunk and pass out with your hands in Solas’ underwear drawer.”

Dorian scoffed. “Are you suggesting I can’t hold my liquor, Inquisitor?”

“Well, if the last time was any indication…” Varric said with a laugh.

The mage looked at the dwarf with mock indignation. “You and I both know that brew was so potent it was barely even legal. I find your insinuation to be more offending that what the Inquisitor has planned for me if I _do_ pass out drunk.”

“Ha! Maybe in Tevinter, but that stuff is like water to a Marcher.”

The two glared at each other and you rolled your eyes. “C’mon, guys. We won’t find anything if we don’t start searching,” you reminded, pushing them both out of the way.

“She’s right, you know!” Sera chimed in, running into the room while giggling before plunking herself down in front of Solas’ drawers. “I don’t know about you guys, but I think this calls for a few extra pairs of breeches!”

And with that said, the elf immediately sank her hands into one of the drawers and pulled out a handful of grey garments. She tilted her head and hummed in thought. “Looks to me like Mr. Stiff needs more excitement in his life!”

“Yes, and what better place to start him off than his _breeches_ , of all things!” the Tevinter exclaimed sarcastically, though his face showed that the idea amused him greatly.

“If you ask me, Chuckles could use some excitement on his head. Watching the light of the Maker shine off it is nice and all, but sometimes I feel cold just looking at him.”

The dwarf crossed his arms and shivered dramatically. You would’ve thought Varric was cold because he always exposed his chest, even in the Empire du Lion, but apparently he only suffered from second-hand chills.

“Well, if you’re sure, Varric. Maker knows you have enough hair on your chest to cover Solas’ head and _more_.”

A smile rose to Varric’s lips. “Go easy on me, Inquisitor,” he said, “I have to make up for my lack of beard hair somehow. Better on my chest than somewhere else.”

The suggestive smile that dawned on his lips spoke volumes about the implied meaning. Now, exactly how was it that you would erase _that_ mental image from your memory?

You quickly made a mental note to join Dorian in his wine hunt later.

“Eugh!” a very disgusted (but slightly amused) elf cried out, summoning a smirk from the hairy dwarf.

“Oh, you heard that, did you, Buttercup?”

Sera made a face at him. “Tell you the truth: I kinda wish I didn’t,” she said, pausing before she turned to face you, holding a pair of breeches in each hand. “D’you like floral or checkered?”

Giving it a moment’s thought, you turned to Varric, and seeing in his eyes that he was of the same opinion, nodded deeply.

“Chuckles is a checkers and square cut-outs kind of guy, but that doesn’t mean I’m saying ‘no’ to floral.”

Sera gave a quirky giggle (thought it sounded more like an evil cackle from where you were) and promptly shoved the floral breeches deep into the depths of Solas’ drawers, likely to never be seen again.

“Imagine what his face will look like when he pulls _those_ out,” Dorian chimed in, hands busy sifting through an array of bottles and jars.

“He’ll think ‘what a ravishing design’ and want to wear them everywhere he goes?” you suggested, joining Sera in her raid of Solas’ drawers and earning a few questioning glances.

“I’m more curious about what he’d look like _wearing_ them,” Varric admitted with a chuckle.

“Oooooh! Can you imagine Mr. Stiff soaring into battle with these?”

“With his face? I wouldn’t be able to shoot properly, let alone stop laughing!”

“Maybe add something to make him look less out of place?”

“How about a fruit basket? Everybody likes those.”

“An apostate with a fruit basket? Oh no, you don’t. The last time I saw something like that was at some Kirkwall merchant’s house party and the mage ended up not being a mage and the fruit...not being fruit. Let’s just say I didn’t attend any parties for a while after that.”

With Varric’s last sentence, silence pervaded the room and everyone glanced at each other, obviously wondering whether they should risk pushing further or leave it be.

The silence hung in the air. Deciding leaving it hanging was not the wisest nor the most entertaining thing to do, Dorian cleared his throat. “So, Inquisitor, I’m rather curious,” he started, trying his best to break the mood. “What brought about this whole sneaking endeavor anyway?”

You hummed, hands still sifting through Solas’ drawers. “It’s rather simple, really. I wanted one of his sweaters.”

“You couldn’t have simply _asked_ him for one?” Varric asked with a raised brow.

You snorted. “And you call yourself a storyteller, Varric? Where would all the excitement be if I went up to him and asked nicely?”

Varric shrugged. “Point taken, Inquisitor.”

Dorian looked at you, judgement clear in his gaze. “No offense, Inquisitor, but they aren’t exactly the most fashionable strips of cloth I’ve seen. The hobo look is hardly fitting for the leader of the Inquisition. You’d be better off stealing one of mine.” 

A look of intrigue passed over his features as he picked up one of the bottles from the shelf. It seemed like he’d finally found Solas’ wine. 

“Fashionable -- no. Comfortable? Yes. I take it you’ve never had the chance to feel the fabric, Dorian. I swear Solas has had magic woven into the threads to make it feel like you’re being held by the Maker himself. I’ll be damned if I don’t manage to procure one for some research.”

He rolled his eyes. Obviously, the mage wasn’t buying it. “Inquisitor, the only _research_ I think you’re going to be doing is rolling around in bed and -- “

“Quiet!” Varric hissed warningly.

The Tevinter scowled, but said nothing more.

“Hear that?” Varric whispered, eyes fixed on the door. “Somebody’s coming -- and I’d wager it’s Chuckles.”

You looked at him in disbelief. “What? It’s too soon. That brew should be keeping him out of here for at least another hour!”

The dwarf flashed a terse smile. “That might be what you believe, Inquisitor, but my instincts are telling me it’s definitely him. Now, I’m sorry to have to do this to you, but I’m out of here.” 

“Varric, wai -- “

Ignoring your pleas, he quickly made his way to the other door. He turned to you and mouthed “good luck” before slipping out of it.

You rolled your eyes. You knew he’d said it at the beginning, but… “Sera, can you believe him?”

“...”

“...Sera?”

You looked down at the drawers next to you. Sera had already escaped, leaving Solas’ breech drawer wide open, an array of colorful garments having replaced the original grays.

There was one in particular that caught your eye.

Was that a sealing circle?

On the _crotch?_

Suddenly, you found yourself wondering where in Thedas Sera had managed to find such a thing and who even came up with the idea in the first place.

You quickly came to the conclusion that such a thing should be disposed of before it ever had the chance to reach Solas’ eyes and -- if you were lucky -- before Solas had the chance to find out you were ever poking around in his room.

You closed the drawer you were looking in and leaned down to grab the garment.

“Looking for something, _vhenan?_ ”

You jumped at his voice, the breeches slipping from your grasp and falling to the floor. “S-Solas,” you managed to stutter out, pressing a hand to your chest, “y-you scared me.”

He gave a small chuckle. “My apologies, _vhenan_. It is rare to see you enter my room without me being here. Did you need me for something?”

With a nervous chuckle, you hastily picked the breeches up off the floor, trying to close the drawer without him noticing. “Well, you see, Solas, I...um...h-how do I explain this…”

Solas tilted his head, eyes flicking to the breeches as he came closer. “What do you have there, _vhenan?_ ”

“These?” You stared dumbly at the breeches in your arms. “These...um…these belong to our illustrious Commander!”

You mentally apologized to man you had named.

He wrinkled his brow. “Cullen’s? And what are they doing here?”

...Sod.

It was looking like you were going to be owing the man a few rounds now.

“Well, you know how Cullen is absolutely _terrible_ at Wicked Grace?”

“Ah, yes. I have heard stories. Varric, in particular, seems to like exposing him.”

You nodded, smiling thinly as you wracked your brain for ideas. “We were having a little too much fun tonight and the poor man lost as usual. Varric made the punishment to run a lap around Skyhold while stripping off clothing every hundred steps until he made it back to his office...unfortunately, he happened to drop these here and...well...knowing how close we are, he kind of begged me to come and get them for him. I believe it was ‘Maker take him lest he go into another man’s room naked to look for his breeches’.”

Solas’ expression was unreadable as he stared at you. You could feel the sweat running down your back, each breath you took feeling like it was leaving sediment in your lungs.

“I see,” he said simply.

You breathed a sigh of relief. It sounded like he believed you.

“But he wouldn’t happen to have been wearing more than one pair, would he?”

You followed Solas’ line of sight. There, lying in full view, were the floral breeches everyone had agreed on.

_Sera…!!_ you screamed internally. _Elgar’nan, why couldn’t you have shoved those somewhere deeper?!_

Solas watched your panic with thoughtful eyes. “I am no fool, _vhenan_ ,” he stated, hand gently coming up to cup your face. “Tell me, what is the real reason you have come?”

You let his hand guide your gaze to his.

You weren’t sure what you should say now. Should you come clean or continue trying to weasel your way out of it?

Your arms tightened around the breeches as you took a deep breath. “Well, Solas, the thing is…” you trailed off, eyes flicking down as you suddenly remembered what exactly was on the clothes you were holding.

He didn’t miss the quirk in your expression -- or your downward gaze, for that matter -- and you didn’t miss how his eyes followed yours down to his crotch.

“It’s not what you think!” you sputtered before he could say anything, your face flushing as you clutched the pants to your chest. “I-I didn’t come here for that! This -- this is Sera’s handiwork!” you confessed. “I’m just -- I don’t think -- Breeches shouldn’t have sealing circles on them! _Especially_ not on the crotch!”

The words left your mouth before you had time to think. Realizing what you’d blurted out, you mentally facepalmed. You’d decided to burn them before Solas ever knew they existed, but here you were revealing their existence to him with your own mouth.

You looked up at him, blush still dusting your cheeks. “I-I’m not here to pressure you, Solas. You can be sure of that. Just…” You sighed, dropping your forehead against his chest. “Don’t tell anyone about this. Please.”

His chest rumbled gently as he laughed. “Of course, _vhenan_. Who knows what people would say if they knew their Inquisitor was rummaging through people’s drawers in the middle of the night? With those breeches, they might think you were out to sabotage the Inquisition. Definitely something better kept secret.”

He gently took them from you, unfurling them and looking at them with raised brows. “Ah, yes. It very much seems like something Sera would do,” he mumbled, obviously remembering all the other pranks the blonde had pulled on him, his expression twisting into something of a grimace.

Memories of what you’d seen her to do others flashed through your mind and you looked at him with sympathy. You guessed that he had been a victim of a large part of her pranks, given how well they got along.

“This sealing circle is drawn with an alarming amount of accuracy,” he stated with intrigue. “Perhaps it originated from Tevinter? I hardly think the Circle mages would have thought of such things, let alone draw them out.”

You laughed dryly. “I was wondering that myself. Sera seems to keep some very… _colorful_ company, ourselves included.”

“I have no doubt in my mind that you are right,” he replied, folding up the breeches carefully, “but you have yet to answer my question, _vhenan_.”

He stared at you quietly, his gaze probing you for an answer.

“Well, I guess there’s no point trying to hide it anymore...and you’ve already found out about the breeches…”

You pointed your finger at him.

“ _That_ is why I came.”

His eyes followed your finger to his chest. The confusion was clear on his features.

“Your sweater, Solas. I swear you’ve cast some kind of Fade magic on it to make it easier to sleep in. _I want one._ ”

“My sweater…?” he parroted. It took him a moment to understand what you had just said to him. “ _Vhenan_ , you are much more mysterious than I thought you to be,” he said, chuckling when he finally understood. “It is a first to have someone sneak into my room to take one of my sweaters. Dorian and Enchantress Vivienne seem to think them fit for hobos and while they are not particularly wrong, it is surprising to see that the Inquisitor, of all people, would deem them preferable to the fancy sleepwear available to one of their status.”

Solas made his way to one of his drawers, pulling it open before rummaging inside. When he turned around, it was with a sweater in his hand, neatly folded and ready to be worn. ‘Take this, _vhenan_. It is newly washed and should serve your purpose well.” He grinned. “If you should ever need another, do not hesitate to ask.”

He approached you and gently placed the sweater in your hands, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “Go now and sleep, _vhenan._ You will need it for the coming days.”

You nodded obediently, turning and making your way for the door. A few steps shy, you stopped, peering over your shoulder at him.

“Solas...a question before I leave?”

“Ask away.”

“...What are you going to do with those breeches?”

He chuckled. “I know of a place where they would be put to better use. Do not worry, _vhenan_ , for you will know soon enough.”

You guessed it was no coincidence that Cullen was seen wearing a strange pair of breeches the next week. 

_With a sealing circle right on his crotch._


End file.
